today was bookended by appointments of the aesthetic variety. was poked, prodded and tisk tisked at the dentist this morning. at 7:40 am, to be exact. what prompted me to book that early is simple. i am a morning owl. or would that be an early bird? whatever type of winged creature arises first, ready to burst with excitment for the new day - that would be me.

not sure if i was that peppy about going to get my chomp chomps checked out, but for the sake of the story, i'll pretend i was. toddled up to the far north (yonge & eglinton) to see dr. fisher and his cohorts. and by cohorts i mean hygenists. cheery chatty patty was ready & waiting, and off we went into the land of drill drill buzz buzz.

but not before she could tell me (once she found out i was in advertising), "ohhh i love those bell ads with the beavers? oh-ho, those always crack me up." well goshdarn it. so happy to see that mediocrity continues to wow the world. i had to quash her excitement by telling her i worked for the competitor. "oh, is that the one with the monkeys?" she asked disinterestedly, then trailed off into nothing.

so that was the cleaning. and then there was the verdict. ie the dentist. the man with the five year plan to replace every single tooth with a gold crown. or something. there were a few cavities. and a warning that if i didn't get a night guard, i would grind my teeth into oblivion. a night guard. that phrase brings to mind slumbering sentries from some sort of shakespeare play, not something i put in my mouth. i mean, just say retainer. or nerd gear.

instead he said (with a straight-face, mind), "at night, you can rely on the night guard. during the day, you can only rely on your will power". goodness, i didn't realize there was so much drama in the molar world.

so bookend beginning.

and then at the end of the day - at five pm - i crossed town to get my haircut - whizzing (or rather, inching along in a cab) by crappy front street sports bars filled with suits unwinding with lukewarm domestics in hand, and commuters breathing icicles in the air.

haircuts are a joy, especially at aveda. my hair cutter is a 24 year old adorable on his way to becoming the next, well, whatever the top of his industry is. cutting master? snipping extaordinaire? edward scissorhands?

we talked of new york and bad fringes to the sweet sounds of blades slicing through strands. and as piles were swept away by the passing sweeping up hair guy, i gazed upon a new me. or maybe just a new version of the old me-haircut. but it's a goodie. and not really an oldie, either.

so bookend ended. shiny smile, shiny hair. take a shine to me.